


The Groupie

by AprilLady



Category: No Fandom
Genre: 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, Absent Parents, Drugs, F/M, Inspired by Music, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Music, Protective Siblings, Rock and Roll, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Sister-Sister Relationship, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2582441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AprilLady/pseuds/AprilLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the help of her sister, Cassandra, Mary-Jane May escapes from her turbulent home life. As she has grown up with an ex-groupie as a mother, she makes a vow to herself not to follow in her tempestuous footsteps.</p><p>But outside forces can be powerful...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!
> 
> This is my very first work on this website and I love to write so please let me know what you think of it- good or bad! Do not be afraid to be brutally honest :)
> 
> Happy reading,  
> HD <3
> 
> P.S. Apologies for the rubbish tags ;)

Chapter 1- Leaving Home Ain’t Easy

I can’t deal with her anymore.

I know she’s my mother but I struggle to see her as something so pure and good-natured; enemy, rival, nemeses, the Apollo Creed to my Rocky Balboa, maybe, but not “mother”. 

I pace around my matchbox-sized bedroom to collect anything that may bear even a sliver of sentimental value whilst at the same time, trying to block out the cacophony of Mother Dearest punching, kicking, and shouting at me to “open the goddamn door”.

So far in my rucksack I have a book of poetry by John Keats, an overflowing diary that I’ve kept since I was thirteen and a cream-white teddy-bear that my grandmother bought for my fifth birthday-the one where I lived with her. 

Clothes, as minimal as they are, are a secondary thought to me; I just want to get out of this hellhole.

The noise stop; which makes my blood turn to ice and my feet to stone.  
I turn from my rucksack and creep towards the battered and bruised door.

I hold my breath as I hear the all-too-familiar sound of a pleasured groan followed by what sounds like a corpse slowly sliding down against the cracked and feeble wood.

I’ve fallen into this trap too many times before. I remind myself to hurry up and get out whilst I still can. I grab my rucksack and open the door slowly. 

Dressed in a two-sizes-too-small Cream t-shirt and nothing else, Geraldine falls towards me. 

Barley managing to open her bag-ridden eyes, she slowly smirks at me. I look at her with nothing but the concoction of hatred, sadness, and guilt that I’ve become too accustomed with but all of that evaporates once I spot the half-filled needle hanging out of her arm. 

“Where are you going, Mary-Jane?” I swear this woman must have a dichotomy- Donna Reed in It’s a Wonderful Life one minute to Ike Turner the next.

No. No more. I’m out of here.

I step over her and silently laugh at how she tugs at my bell-bottoms. I walk down the stairs and make a conscious effort to keep my head down as much as possible. I do not want to remember this place at all; the countless men, the parties, the beatings, the drugs, the drinks- none of it.

I open the door to the desolate street and spot my sister, Cassandra, leaning against her beloved blood-red Chevrolet Malibu, looking sinisterly at the house she was forced to grow up in. 

Whatever’s going through her head, I can’t blame her.

“Wanna hit, Cassie?” I shout to her, impersonating one of Geraldine’s ‘conquests’, a yank called Charlie.

Her gaze falls to me and she smiles faintly.

“That’s not funny, MJ.”

I feel a smile spread on my face but it doesn’t last for very long. I drop the bag and run into her open arms and weep like a colicky toddler.

“She’s not worth your tears, sweetheart. Please don’t cry.” I hear furious screams from inside which triggers me to swipe the rucksack from the minute weed-entombed driveway and bolt for the car. 

We’ve been through this so many times before- Cassandra trying to save me from Geraldine, but she always lost.

“Alright, that’s our cue, girl.” She calmly says as she looks down at my all-too-tight grip on the door handle. How it isn’t snapping off in my hand, I do not know. Cassandra marches around the front of the car and nonchalantly opens the door. 

But something stops her in her tracks and she looks up and stares at the door with contempt. I feel my stomach lurch as I turn around and see Geraldine standing half-conscious with a second needle in her arm in the doorway staring at us as if we had just robbed her out of house and home.

“Goodbye, mother” I whisper to her as we both enter the car.  
As I sit on the cold leather, I watch from the corner of my eye my mother limping towards us but I keep my eyes forward and focus on anything.

A flickering streetlamp.

A bench.

A crumbling brick wall. 

Just anything, but her.

The damn car won’t start. But luckily the doors are locked.

“What time are you coming back, baby? I have to make dinner.” She slowly taps on the window with black eyes and a blank expression as I hear Cassie start to panic.

The engine starts, just as sober Geraldine begins to make an appearance.

“Get out...NOW.”

As we turn out of Perry Road and onto the main road, we both breathe a sigh of relief and smirk at each other. It feels like I’ve been trapped in Hell and I’m sailing through Purgatory on the way to Heaven. 

“Did you see it?”

“Yes, it looked like speedball this time.” 

As we stopped at the traffic lights, I look over at her swollen abdomen and gently caress my growing niece or nephew. 

“You’re two weeks late, right?” I ask with a grin.

“Yeah, any minute now, May-May.”

“And you still don’t want to know whether it’s a girl or boy?” 

“Absolutely not. Paul doesn’t either; we just want a healthy and happy baby!” She squeals with delight and pats the bump lovingly.

As we listen to Duke Ellington’s In a Sentimental Mood, I have to ask her something.

“How did she become like that?”

“She was…a groupie for a band called The Cranks” I ask her what it is. To me, “groupie” sounds synonymous with “prostitute”.

“A groupie is where you basically stalk a band or a single musician and try to have sex with one or all of them. Sid and Nancy ring a bell?”

“So was our Dad in the band?” I innocently ask her, although I soon regret even opening my mouth.

“No, he was a good man! He wasn’t in that fucking band!” Her baby blue eyes start to water so she changes the subject instantly.

I remain as quiet as a mouse for the rest of the journey to her house.


	2. Now I'm Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary-Jane arrives at her sister's house but who's Charlie?

I remember the day when Cassandra first described her home to me- I burst out laughing because I never thought anyone related to me would be living in such luxury.

But here I am. As she pulls into the driveway, my jaw drops with sheer shock. It honestly looks like something that the Rockefeller family would reside in. 

“Home sweet home” She states happily.

I simply nod as I watch her admire her castle of a home. I can’t help but feel slightly envious of her elation.

As we walk up to the manor slash mansion, she reassures me that it’s ‘all over’. But I’m not a little girl anymore; I know she’ll be back-like the Bogeyman.

The second we step foot on the first of three clean- as-crystal marble steps, the charcoal double doors open for us to be greeted by an older but handsome man dressed impeccably in a navy blue suit. He holds his hands behind his back and smiles infectiously. 

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, Mary-Jane.” He speaks with a smooth deep Scottish accent which makes me blush.

“MJ, this is Paul Grant- my fiancé”. I reach to shake his hand but he softly bats it away and hugs me instead. 

I watch with a mask of happiness as raven-haired Paul lovingly kisses his fiancée and strolls towards the chariot containing my belongings. I have to ask myself- why can’t I have something like that?

I turn and face the dreamlike hallway. The last time I was in a room this immense was on a school trip to an archaic museum. You could actually fit the remains of a T-rex and still call it ‘home’.

“Better than a matchbox, huh?” Cassie hugs me tightly from behind and I can feel her smiling as she rests her head on my shoulder.

“Absolutely” I turn around and embrace her.

“So what do you think of Paul?” She whispers and grins like a smitten school-girl.

“He’s a lovely man, sis. I can tell he makes you happy.”

“Oh, he does. Happier than I ever thought I could be.” The mask must’ve fallen because she looks at me with motherly concern.

“He’s out there, Mary. You just have to wait. Hey, how’s that friend of yours, Charlie?” She looks at me mischievously but before I can answer, or more like attempt to avoid to, I see Paul closing the doors holding my rucksack.

“Hate to interrupt, ladies, but would you like to be shown to your room, Mary?”

“Of course, I’d love to see more of this place!” 

***

My new bedroom is the complete reverse of my matchbox. Peeling and ripped turquoise wallpaper has been replaced by a smooth cream-white texture that makes me feel instantly at home. A single bed on the verge of ruin with a filthy mattress has been replaced by a double queen-sized four poster bed. 

“Well?” Cassie questions. Paul drops the rucksack next to her.

I say nothing and simply run like a child and throw myself on the all-too-comfortable bed. I hear her whisper to Paul-

“I think she likes it!”

I roll around to look at the happy couple and feel another pang of envy as I watch Paul kiss Cassie’s forehead with her just managing to wrap her petite arms around his waist. 

“Listen; are you hungry-do you want something to eat? Or do you just want to sleep?” He inquires with a grin.

“I’m okay for food- I just want to sleep in this giant marshmallow forever!” I bury my head the countless pillows.

We bid goodnight to each other and I am soon left alone to sleep the night away. As I lie awake in my bed, I can’t help but think about what Cassie said. I know ‘he’s’ out there, but where? And when will I meet him, or have I already met him?

I hum songs by The Ink Spots to myself until I fall sound asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> As I said before, please do not be afraid to leave me a comment saying how rubbish/okay it is and whether I should carry on with it! :-) ♥


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